The Lonely Dead
by Almapenzare
Summary: A satire on the modern horror tropes and a send up of George Romero's works. I hope you all enjoy.


(I do apologize to all of my readers for disappearing as long as I did. I promise I'll get started on the next part of birds of Prey soon, the uni semester had me very busy - speaking of, here's a little story I wrote for one of my classes.)

It was with a series of muffled curses and a spastic covering of his eyes that Lucas awoke. As always, he'd forgotten entirely to close his bedroom's blinds, and as always he was woken bright and early by searing horizontal shafts stabbing onto the sheets of his bed and up into his eyes like a particularly sadistic torturer's favourite hot poker.

Rolling up into a sitting position, he kept his hands pressed to his face until the bright spots cleared from his vision, then and only then did Lucas accept the waking world into his mind. He lifted his head, looking about his eternally detritus-strewn room, unwashed clothes covering the floor like casualities of war, paper strewn upon his desk like a small cyclone had thrown an office supplies store at Dorothy. Throwing off his underwear from the night before, he grabbed a fresh pair from his bedside drawer, then dressed in the cleanest looking of the floor bound casualties, his one show of school pride - a sky blue t-shirt with Carnegie Mellon's emblem on it - and his favourite pair of jeans. Then went on his one and only pair of sneakers, his favourite jacket - black leather with a grey hoodie inner layer - and a quick spritz of deodorant, and he was ready for the day.

Well, he would have been ready for any, normal, day. But today, would be unlike any he had survived through before, that is, if he survived…

Lucas lumped everything he'd need for his tuesday schedule into his old messenger bag: notebook, pencil-case, water-bottle hastily filled from his bathroom faucet, laptop charger, and finally his beloved laptop, which he briefly roused from it's slumber to check the progress on the download of Game of Thrones season two. Seventy-three percent, hopefully it'd be done by tonight. Closing the screen once more, he slipped the device reverentially into his messenger bag and put the strap over his shoulder. It was now for the first time since waking, that he bothered to look at his bedside clock.

"SHIT!" Burst from his lips

He was late.

"Shiiiiiiiiiit." Groaned out at a more leisurely stream now that the first expletive had opened the way.

He was really, really late.

And he had a presentation to do today. A group one. With two cute girls he was - just now - starting to get to like him.

With nary a second thought, he pulled the door open and sprinted down the dorm's hallway to the staircase, if he ran all the way, he might make it in time for his group to give their presentation. It was that pedal to the metal, foot to the floor speed that probably saved his life, as a grasping hand passed mere millimetres from his hood, pulling back as he sped away, it's owner letting out a low groan that fell on deaf ears. Lucas sped on unawares.

It was on his buildings staircase that he got the first hint that something might be wrong, those idiot stoners who always heckled him for a lighter were nowhere to be seen, in their place on the first landing was a single bloody handprint, short trails casting down from it like droplets of rain. He took it as a rather creative piece of graffiti - at least creative for the dumbasses he shared this university with, Halloween was coming up, they must just be getting into the right spirit - and kept going. Out the first floor hallway, and into the living area courtyard. Though to him, it was much more akin to stepping into hell.

Where usually students would be working their way from one lecture to another, or enjoying lunch, or one another's lips there was only carnage. Bodies strewn the courtyard, ragdolled in death's embrace, limbs hanging limp in the soupy pools of entrails, viscera and blood that turned the bitchumen courtyard into a swampland. They adorned the courtyard in it's entirety, slumped against walls, torn to shreds and scattered about the floor, one body had even managed to get itself horrifically impaled upon the no littering sign just in front of one of the dormitory buildings.

But it wasn't the bodies that immediately caught Lucas's eye - though they certainly did their damndest to pull his gorge up - it was what was currently chowing down on them. Corpses - not nearly as badly wounded as those on the ground but clearly dead all the same - were wandering the courtyard, some just aimlessly staring off into the middle distance whilst others were on their hands and knees, mouths filled with meat torn from the bodies of their less active brethren corpses upon the ground. One turned it's head slowly to face him, neck twitching spasmodically like it was afflicted by a very localized seizure.

"Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me," mumbled a terrified Lucas, staring vacantly back at the slowly approaching corpse. Thankfully his feet had a bit of a better handle on the situation than his head did, and after an impromptu tactical meeting with his arms and legs, they sent him hurtling away from it as fast as they could.

But no matter where they pulled their intrepid owner, death seemed to be waiting at every corner, the walking corpses were wandering the university in search of fresh prey, groans and moans unintelligibly escaping their lips to bounce off the brick walls just as Lucas did every time he hit one. Occasionally the scream of a surviving student or staff member somewhere on campus, usually swiftly cut off as whatever provoked the scream ended eagerly with the sharp implements hidden inside its own face hole. He needed to find somewhere safe from there, somewhere with a door he could lock, but preferably not somewhere like a mall or the main school building. Movies had taught him that never ended well. The cafe might do nicely, small, easily defended, enough nibblies for him to last a while, assuming the power was still on for the refrigerators. Now the only problem was working out how to get there through this horrendous slasher fic of a university.

Lucas's first order of business was to work out where he was, he'd been running on instinct with no particular plan or direction in mind. Right now he found himself on a small pathway between two lecture theatres, it was safe here, for now at least. This pathway was a bit less used seeing as there were far more convenient pathways to get to either hall, it was merely luck's die that had rolled him up here. Mental mapmaking and pathfinding firing through the synaptic wires of his brain as they compared and cross referenced the many area's of his university to work out the fastest route to the cafe. With a final triumphant nod to himself, he turned on his heel. Ready to rush off to save the day… For himself.

And nearly ran face first into a zombie…. Specifically his 'friend' Steve, who's small intestine was slowly spooling out along the ground behind him, and who only had one usable arm, the other one gnawed down to the bone, dyed entirely red with his now redundant life blood.

Steve was always kind of a dick.

"Fuck!" Exploded from Lucas's pie-hole as he stumbled over himself trying to spin around once more and run down the other way, but that dick managed to get a hold of his arm as it stretched out behind him. Cold dead fingers, like worms crawling up his body closed around his wrist as a hungry groan escaped Steve. A fetid stench came from the zombies open mouth, the smell of stomach acid eating away at its own container mixed with the smell of dried blood. It was enough to bring tears to Lucas's eyes and bring his gorge up even as he did his best to tug his arm free from the zombies grip. It's clammy fingers pushed as hard as they could into his forearm as his once friend stumbled closer. Stumble was a very apt word for it to - as its foot slid along the ground it got caught in it's own looping intestines, tripping over and losing it's grip on our hero in a manner so comical and cartoonish he'd have laughed if it weren't for how horrifying it was to see his friend torn apart so, and yet still be moving. Lucas let out a faint sigh of relief as the zombie fell to his side, stepping away from it pointedly before setting off at a sprint the way it had come, calling over his shoulder as he did

"I never liked you much Steve!"

Lucas swore the zombies following groan sounded just a little bit hurt as it tried to crawl after him.

But the undeads crushed feelings weren't exactly high on his priority list at the moment, Lucas had to get to the cafe before well… He wasn't exactly sure. Before the zombies ate him he guessed, or before someone else got there first and locked him out, that'd be just his luck wouldn't it?

Apparently it was to, amazingly he arrived at the cafe unharmed, a little winded from jumping a guard railing and taking a 5 foot drop to escape a zombie more persistent and alert than the rest, but otherwise perfectly all right. Arriving at the cafe, his pace finally slowing, feet attaching themselves to the bitchumen for a moment as he allowed himself to catch his breath - Lucas looked in through one of the windows, what he saw sunk his heart. People. He saw people in there. People always made things so very very difficult, and not just people! Oh no, these were people he didn't like. He could see through the window popular girls from Humanities sector, the girls who were at every party, the girls who acted like he didn't exist because he wasn't popular and / or white enough to attend the parties, he saw jocks, guys who got here on football scholarships, huge bipedal muscle sculptures with brains the size of peanuts and ego's powerful enough to block out the sun when damaged.

And of course, sitting in the back on an upturned plastic crate was the token black guy amongst the party of caucasians, looking distinctly morose in his current environment. He must know the horror movie law, poor bastard.

Lucas had no clue if they had spotted him yet, but he could only hope their gorilla brains had the compassion stored somewhere in them to let him in before the zombies - who were getting closer by the second by the sounds of their groans behind him - got him, of course for compassion to fit in there alongside pick up lines and football plays would be a feat of data storage that would make the ghost of Steve Jobs turn into Slimer from Ghostbusters from sheer jealousy alone.

Witty commentary from his internal monologue aside, Lucas knew he had to come to a decision, and that decision came easily enough - Death, or people he didn't like much, Death, people he didn't like much? - As tempting as death was for the merest instant, the jocks won as they always did. It was with a leaden stomach he approached the window, he was by no means a socialite, but in times like this he could only hope people who would usually push him around, call him a nerd or simply deny his existence entirely would show kindness, just this once. He didn't want to die, he really didn't, despite the brave face he put on for no one but himself, Lucas was more scared than he'd ever been in his life. A quick knock on the door, that's how he greeted them - as if he were here to sell them on the word of Jesus Christ our lord, rather than praying to that same man that they'd save him. The black guy - Lucas had no clue what his name was, and had a depressing feeling he'd die before it mattered.

He didn't have to wait long for their response, that huge lummox of a jock with the perfectly hewn chin of granite and the sandy blonde hair twirled around from where he was talking with the girls - a football of course held between his hands - to face the door, in that instant Lucas saw the same look he was sure his eyes held in the jocks own, pure fear, pure unadulterated fear and a drive to survive competing for dominance in a mind thrown by a catapult several miles from its comfort zone.

And then it was gone, just like that, gone so fast Lucas wondered if he'd just imagined that such a creature could actually process such complex emotions such as fear. Taking it's place was the habitual maco grin of jocks everywhere, that stupid half-smile that said "I own the world and I expect everything to go my way, if it doesn't I hit things." The jock walked up to the door, saying through the glass pane so that his voice came out muted and hard to hear.

"What?" Came the simple question. One that perplexed Lucas greatly causing him to take a moment to respond, and entirely miss the groan slowly getting nearer from behind him.

"What do you think!? Let me in man!" He retorted, irritation growing at the jock not being able to process even the most obvious of predicaments. The jock failed to respond at all, looking over Lucas's shoulder, that little tip off definitely saved his life - a funny little contrast to how ignorance did when he first woke - as Lucas turned around just in time to see a zombie stumble towards him, arms outstretched, it was a girl this time, flaps of torn flesh hanging from her arms and cheeks, blood staining her forearms red, her teeth on full display in a horrific cheshire grin, that low gargling groan escaping her lips a permanent death rattle as her jaw opened, blank eyes locked on his form - a burning hunger for flesh within her.

"Shit!" Secreted from Lucas's mouth as he ducked to the side, just managing to get out of her way, resulting in the zombie slamming face first into the glass door, a scarlet stain being left upon the pane from her gaping wounds.

"You're on your own dude! I'm not opening this door and risking the girls!" Came that damned jocks voice, like all of them thinking with his dick and his dick alone, not giving a damn for those outside his social group / without breasts, Lucas heard him and something died within him, that little iota of faith in humanity that still remained. Now his only option left was to run and find somewhere new to hold up, thinking about where could wait, running first. He turned back the way he had come, getting moving right away to avoid the harlot who'd just slammed into the door, but turning his gaze only revealed to him that she was only one point on his slowly growing presentation on why life is terrible for people who aren't pretty. His Engaging in the Humanities teacher would have given Death an A+ for a presentation this engaging.

With no aid from the living - the pretty kids always insisting on pushing away anyone who didn't fit in unless they were lacking their token minority, and the dead out to make him dinner, Lucas once again found himself all alone on the run, he wasn't truly even conscious of where he was going, feet slamming down against the cement pathways, grassy gardens and finally bitumen roads as he thoughtlessly jogged along, mind lost in introspection and planning as his body automatically avoided any incoming threats, and many there were - zombies lolled in courtyards, the undead students and teachers aimlessly staring at one another or feasting on former friends and colleagues. They'd painted the town red, and as funny as a thought it may have been, Lucas found himself thinking about how this was the first time he'd seen everyone in college come together, cliques and rivalries forgotten in their bloody revelries… Well, everyone but those jocks in the cafe - god, it sounded like a plot for revenge of the nerds or some other dumb 80's movie he'd never gotten around to seeing, as long as you forgot that all the 'partiers' were reanimated flesh hungering corpses bent on slaughtering and devouring the living… Bit of a downer for an 80's plot, probably wouldn't get past focus groups. This was where Lucas's mind went as his body acted on its own, in truth it felt it was much more efficient with that useless nerd of a brain butting out for a while. His feet communicated with the rest of him effectively, noting the differing textures of the ground beneath his soles as he ran on, eventually pointing out to the rest of him that they'd been running on grass for ages now, not a touch of stone or bitumen in at least ten minutes, that got something to send a message to his brain, finally bringing the dork out of it's movie obsessing delusions, and back to the nightmare that was the real world.

And…. For a moment, as his brain retook the reigns from the baser instincts - the ones that spent less time whining and beating around the bush - it found things weren't… Looking so bad right now, as of now, Lucas found himself standing amidst a plethora of trees, bushes and other kinds of green things that don't appear on the dinner table, he'd left the university entirely, leaving the civilised charnel house for the forest that bordered one side of it, pausing to think for a moment he realised this was likely the safest place he could be, no one really went into the forest for fear of old urban legends about hook handed murderers and people who enjoy jogging, the second being much scarier than the first to most of the uni's community. As such there probably wasn't too many people out here… If any, and if those urban legends about murderers and joggers were true, then they were by far the lesser threat to the zombies, hell they'd probably be glad to have him along, with their fitness and… Murderiness, now fully socially acceptable for dealing with the undead, they'd have no need to jog away from / murder him with so many other targets for both, he could be their sidekick!... Or their dinner, depending on how his luck fared its sojourn to the great outdoors.

Musings aside, Lucas had to admit his luck seemed to have finally taken the right turn and was heading down a good road, it was quiet out here, just the calm trilling of birds in the trees and rustling in the grass, peaceful compared to the hellscape not twenty minutes jog back the way he'd come. For the first time since he'd stepped out of his room - a place he'd likely never return to - Lucas felt he could actually afford to relax somewhat, it was with a relieved sigh he eased himself down against a tree, the muscles of his legs returning the sentiment, all feeling as if they were aflame from the amount of work he'd put them through recently. Maybe things would turn out okay after all, maybe he wouldn't end up like that poor guy back with the jocks, maybe he'd survi-

It was then that Lucas fell fast asleep, head slumping down upon his shoulders as the fusion of shock, trauma, exhaustion and a distinct lack of awe finally caught up to him, crushing his mind in a wave of numbness.

For Lucas, sleep was without any dreams, something to be thankful for at least, after an experience like this, any dreams he'd have had would have most assuredly been nightmares - visions of friends and family rent asunder, the dead walking the earth, that dick Steve! No, tonight sleep served merely to give him rest, to restore his bodies energy and allow his mind to settle against the horrors of waking life, the musings he'd used to distract himself as he ran in the day having served well as a shield, allowing his mind to bounce back faster than it would have otherwise, still though…

Lucas awoke roughly six hours later, the moon now high in the sky - it was full tonight, because of course it was - and so the glade he rested in stayed fairly well lit despite the late hour, the sounds of birds trilling merrily to one another was gone now, replaced by the far more irritating sounds of crickets chirping. Lucas raised his head slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a wide and luxurious yawn, taking a moment to remember exactly where he was and what in the world he was doing sleeping in the woods. Senses, recollections and automobiles returning to him, Lucas got to his feet-

Snap.

Behind him, not thirty feet off, a twig snapped, that wasn't good. He pressed himself up against the tree he'd rested upon - was it a zombie? Was it a murderer? Or scarier, a jogger? - all thoughts of becoming their amiable sidekick short round style disappeared from his mind as images of those horrendous short shorts and freakishly well toned thighs filled his mind, slowly, heart thudding in his ears and stomach clenching, he leaned out from behind the tree to get a look.

Whoever they were, there was more than one, and they were making no particular attempt to be quiet.

"Poor Malik…" Came a girls voice, high pitched, more used to giggling, gossiping and gasping that mourning. With the voice came a flashlight missing Lucas's face by a few feet and the sound of more twigs and leaves carelessly crushed beneath feet.

"Who?" Responded a male's voice, Lucas didn't even need to see them to know this ones type, used to command, getting what they want, egotistical…

"You know? The black guy? The one who just died? You went to highschool together?"

"Oh! Oh right… Yeah, poor Malik."

So that was the black guy's name, Lucas's predictions had been correct - as tropes demanded, the black guy had been the first to go. Poor bastard… Should have stuck with the other minorities, going with white guys just made you prey to the tropes pantheon.

More to the point, now Lucas might be the one falling prey to those same capricious gods, for the people before him were scarier than any undead monster, hockey mask wearing maniac or fitness obsessed muscleman.

Before him were those asshole jocks and cheerleaders from the cafe.

Why did they have to be here? Why oh why did they have to be out here!?

Now now. Calm down, as much as this may seem like one at times, this isn't a movie, this is real life Lucas, keep a hold of yourself, the tropes don't really apply in real life. Maybe now, away from the haven of the cafe and with no more locked doors to separate them from the horrors plaguing the campus they'd be happier to accept him into their fold. Swallowing down that same knot of tension and social anxieties from last time, Lucas stepped out from behind the tree.

"Hello?" He called to them. Hoping to alert them to the fact that he was indeed amongst the living before they even had a chance to register him as a zombie. As he should have expected they immediately went on the stereotypical defensive, both girls letting out twin shrieks of fright and theatrical dismay, swooning off in the background as the three remaining guys immediately took on the manliest and most aggressive poses possible. The obvious leader - that guy who'd greeted and turned him away at the door of the cafe - had acquired a shotgun somewhere along the way and had it raised in some vague approximation of readiness, eyes sighting down the barrel by the light of the flashlight taped to it, it was this flashlight that found Lucas, blinding him and prompting him to raise his hand to shield his eyes.

"Who are you? You're not bitten right?" He demanded, short term memory a thing reserved for phone numbers and where the beer is. Lucas thought carefully before responding, not daring to risk their anger when there was an alpha male with a gun amidst them.

"Uh, I'm Lucas? I was at the cafe, but you didn't let me in cos there were zombies around remember?"

The group exchanged looks behind the back of guns mcgee as his eyes narrowed on Lucas, it looked like perhaps their fearless leader had told them different after tossing Lucas to the wind earlier.

"Right well…-"

Lucas brought the conversation back to the point before the jock had a chance to take charge once more, "so seeing as you guys are out in the open now, mind if I tag along? You know, safety in numbers right?"

"Are you sure you're not infected? I don't want to risk you turning on us." Demanded the jock, his shotgun still worrying focused on Lucas.

"Come on dude, let him come with. We don't have time for all this fucking about and I doubt he'll slow us down." Said another of the males, one of the pair of beta's to this ones alpha, Lucas couldn't see which one for the glare in his eyes from the flashlight, whoever it was he wanted to give them a big old kiss right now. A moment longer passed before the alpha finally lowered the gun, waving Lucas over.

"Alright, alright, you can come with. There's supposed to be some old cottage ten miles from campus the old forest ranger lived in. We're headed there." He said over his shoulder, already starting to continue on, the rest of the group falling in behind automatically.

Heart currently in a victory line dance alongside his liver and the butterflies in his stomach, Lucas happily jogged over, falling in at the back of the line alongside the two beta's who forming the rearguard for the group, keeping the girls safely in the middle. He turned to one of them, short dark brown hair, chin chiselled from the same stone as the alpha's, he carried a rather dangerous looking shovel in one hand for a weapon, the edge stained with blood and brain bits.

"I'm Lucas." He prompted, thinking he might do some work at integrating himself in with the group.

"I don't care."

Okay, that definitely wasn't the one who'd supported him getting in the group - he felt a hand lightly tap him on the shoulder, turning his attention to the other beta, larger in stature and girth, he had a slightly rounder face than the others, less a granite statue and more a human being, Lucas guessed he was a lineman, their job was to protect other members of the team so they probably had more basic empathy than the other superhumans.

"I'm Jacob, that's Nathan, and the guy in front is Steve. The girls are Tracy and Jess, don't mind them if everyone seems a bit stand offish… We're all on edge." He said with a little reassuring smile, a sight that was not only unexpected, but hugely reassuring for Lucas. Lucas gave a tiny chuckle in return, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, I think you'd have to be a complete fucking maniac not to be on edge right now. So uh, why'd you guys move from the cafe? Seemed a pretty good place to hole up."

The two fell into step alongside one another, conversing, voicing fears, concerns and hopes, much to the rest of the groups chagrin as the other two men kept largely silent, the girls talking just as ceaselessly as Lucas and his new friend but in more hushed tones. Lucas learned of how they lost their token black friend when the zombies got in through the service entrance that no one had noticed. He learned of what Jacob was studying at university, generally made connections in a way he rarely did in normal life - guess maybe this apocalypse had an upside after all. It had given a huge surge to the popularity of people he associated himself with.

Things continued in this relative peace for an hour or so, Lucas's legs complicitly falling into auto pilot and trudging alongside all the other pairs through the woods, but eventually, a problem began to rise in audibility behind them. Groans and the occasional lustful howl of hunger were coming from the underbrush behind them, slowly growing in number and nearness despite the groups hastening steps. Still, at their current speed they wouldn't be too much of a problem… Until they stopped. Lucas quietly wondered how they'd get the zombies to stop tailing them, the more that took notice the more that would take notice and the bigger the party chasing them would grow.

After some time quietly wondering, he decided to begin loudly wondering.

"Uh… Guys…?" He voiced

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes Luke?"

Came the multitude of responses from various sources that he really, really could not be bothered to differentiate so he simply addressed them all.

"It's Lucas, and… What's our plan for… That." He jerked his head pointedly behind them to indicate the groans of the encroaching undead. The girls and Nathan furrowed their brows in the expected show of vague offense and incomprehension, Jacob and Steve meanwhile looked back the way they were coming, away from the offending party of Lucas, Steve seemed to take note of all the noises for the first time, eyebrows noticeably raising and adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back his fears. Jacob was a tad more perceptive, but not exactly one to take the initiative - he looked to Steve for guidance, for a plan, they all did, all sheep following their shepherd. Having pulled his fears back like a pill addict with a shot of vodka mixed with niquil, the stone jaw once more had that sparkling confident grin back on his features, fist clenched and thumb up he hoisted it up to point back the way they were going, copying Lucas by wrenching his head back in that direction.

"We keep going - if we move faster we can outrun them easily it's nothing to worry about." He promised with that self assurance he carried with him everywhere like a cape - christ, he sounded like he was on the football field, telling his team what they'd be doing to win the cup, any second Lucas expected him to yell 'hike' and take off running. Sadly the world wasn't quite that predictable, so the group merely took off jogging as a pack, bouncing over roots, hedges and terrified squirrels with entirely unmilitary precision.

It didn't take too long for the token minority - this time the asian - to fall out of the pack.

Lucas felt his foot snag on a root that was protruding higher than an it had any right to outside of slasher films and Narnia. Then he felt himself falling, twisting as he madly tried to recover midfall. Then he felt a horrific crack and a tidal wave of pain rushing from his ankle as the bone was snapped in twain by the fall.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!" He screamed, shriek of agony bouncing from tree to tree and echoing all around, the volume of the zombies behind growing as their prey stopped.

"You okay Lucas!?" Said Jacob, rushing over to help him as Lucas curled up, hissing and whimpering as tears instinctively rolled from his eyes down his cheeks, the rest of the group merely watched, the girls having let out dramatized shrieks in unison. One standing with her hands clasped over her mouth.

"No, shit, aaaagh, fuck my ankles broken. My fucking ankles fucking broken." Lucas groaned, both hands on his leg, teeth clenched so hard they grinded the enamel off one another.

"All right, shit shit shit, I'll carry you, if you can sti-" Began Jacob, before he was cut off loudly by Steve.

"Leave him Jacob! They're coming!" Cried the 'leader' eyes now wide with fear as the first of the undead emerged into view from the underbrush, rotten fetid hands reaching forwards along gangly blood covered limbs, groans and hungered growls issuing from all around in a horrific stereo effect.

"Fuck that!" Cried back Jacob, wrapping an arm under each of Lucas's, trying to drag him along, bringing forth yet another pained yell from the poor bastard, awareness of what was going on around him as pain washed from his ankle in a storm.

"Jacob! Fuckin'.. JACOB!" Yelled Steve, rushing up and grabbing his friend by the shoulder, wrenching him back just in time as the first of the undead reached grasping distance, arms flailing mindlessly towards them like plants reaching up to the sun. Steve took off running - the rest of the group long since fled - Jacob only cast one more look back at his oh so recently gained friend before racing after him.

In the end, Lucas died.

It wasn't all bad.

He'd made a lot of new friends. No one bullied him, or pushed him around. Everyone worked together. Sure the conversation was a bit lacking, but you couldn't ask for everything.

Hell, Lucas didn't need to ask for anything any more. He just took it.

Right now, he wanted dinner. Everyone did, and dinner had been kind enough to wrap itself up in a takeout box in the shape of a cottage.

They worked together, beating at the box, soon enough, the door splintered. Dinner screamed. Dinner even took down a few of his friends, loud bangs tearing them away from him. Didn't matter, he had so many friends now he couldn't even remember any of their names. He and his remaining friends quickly brought dinner down, cornering it and crushing it under the weight of their numbers.

Dinner time.


End file.
